Page 33 of Affair

“No, I suppose not. I can see how one false assumption would lead to the next.”

“You and my aunt will no doubt get along famously. The two of you obviously think in the same erratic manner.”

“Carry on, Mr. St. Ives. Finish the business.”

“As I said, logic led me to Marcle, your man-of-affairs.”

“How is that?”

He shrugged. “I reasoned that if blackmail was involved, it made sense to start with the financial end of things.”

Silently she acknowledged the brilliance of that line of reasoning. “How did you discover that I employed John Marcle?”

“It was not difficult. I have my own man-of-affairs.”

She winced. “Yes, of course.”

“I instructed him to consult with my bankers, who made inquiries of your bankers. I not only learned about Marcle, I also discovered that he was searching for someone to replace him.”

“So you applied for the position.” She exhaled slowly. “How bloody clever of you, sir.”

He hesitated and then added in a strangely neutral tone, “I have had some experience in this sort of thing.”

“Which sort of thing? Acting as a man-of-affairs or spying?”

“Both, actually.” He glanced down at his hands, which were clenched on the chair back. When he looked up again, his eyes were bleak. “As far as the business part is concerned, I have managed a sizable fortune for several years.”

“A fortune?” It was to be one shock after another today, she thought, dazed.

“Two, actually. My own and that of my half brother.”

“I see.” She swallowed. “And the spying bit?”

Baxter looked pained. “I prefer not to use the wordspy.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Spies do have a rather unpleasant reputation, do they not? An unsavory, disreputable lot, completely lacking in honor.”

“Indeed.” The strong line of his jaw grew even more rigid. “The profession may be a necessary one, but it is not considered honorable.”

Charlotte felt terrible. He had deserved the cruel insult but for some reason she wished that she had not succumbed to the urge to level it at him.

“My apologies,” she said brusquely. “Gentlemen do not engage in spying.”

“No, they do not.” He did not even attempt to defend himself.

“A man of honor, however,” she added very delicately, “might make himself available to the proper authorities for a clandestine mission.”

“I assure you, I did not volunteer,” Baxter said dryly. “My knowledge of chemistry was what caught the interest of the authorities. A highly placed gentleman approached my father and asked if I would be willing to aid in the inquiries. My father came to me and I agreed to look into the matter.”

“Who, exactly, is your father?”

“The fourth Earl of Esherton.” Baxter’s hands flexed on the chair back. “He died two years ago.”

“Esherton.” Charlotte was dumbfounded. “Surely you are not about to tell me that you are the fifth Earl of Esherton? That would really be too much, sir.”

“No. I’m a bastard, Charlotte, not an earl.”

“Well, thank God for that much, at least.”

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